


5 things sam and max love about each other

by beescreee



Category: Sam & Max (Comics)
Genre: ALSO sam and max are super neurodivergent, Established Relationship, Freelance Husbands (Sam & Max), M/M, Trans Character, cartoonish violence because of course, sam is a trans guy and max is nonbinary dont forget it!!!!, sybil and bosco are mentioned but not enough to really tag them hehe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28488105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beescreee/pseuds/beescreee
Summary: two drabbles about the things the freelance duo love about their partner :]
Relationships: Max/Sam (Sam & Max)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**SAM**

  * **Those static rabbit ears**



“That position isn’t too uncomfortable or unpleasant for you I hope, Max!” Sam asked while fiddling with the dial on their clunky, microwave of a tv set. Microwave being an apt description since sitting too close to it can ruin your eyes with the added plus of slight radiation!

“Not at all! Y’know not all people would volunteer themselves to become flesh antennae and help their friends watch a lame show that only comes in every blue moon simply to be nice.” Max answered, sitting on top of said micro-tv. “Yeah but you’re not like some people or most people, so what’s your reason for perching yourself up there like a fuzzy, rabid gargoyle?” Sam asked. 

“The funny cocktail of mystery emission and static make my fur and blood cells stand on end!” Max answered while Sam shook his head, smirking. “Your dim, somewhat diet brand of masochism is certainly charming, little buddy,” Sam said, leaning back in his chair with a bowl of popcorn covered in the mysterious sweet and salty topping. 

The two chattered back and forth during the program, with Sam tossing Max a handful of popcorn every so often, and Max, not being able to see the tv from on top of it, creating visuals for insults he threw at whoever was talking which got Sam to grin more than once. 

But it was in the quiet moments where Sam’s concentration started to falter, his eyes darting between the tv program and the stout lagomorph stimming with a toy sitting on top of it. Eventually, Sam resolved and watched Max stim, his wire bent looking ears twitching every so often which would cause the tv to short out before being quickly corrected.

_ ‘He’s being strangely careful about the reception for a guy only in it for the staticy pleasure of it all…’ _ Sam thought.

Max’s ears were a strange subject, Sam witnessed too many people try their luck in attempting to pet his little buddy’s ears. Sam only physically tried stopping him when children were involved and would help him out whenever Max needed bail when the nonconsensual ear touching violently escalated any further. 

Safe to say, Sam learned touching Max’s ears was a no-go unless of course, he wanted to go from four fingers to three. 

So imagine the utter mind-boggling, shock, awe, and wonder Sam felt when Max allowed him to hold and even pet his excitedly vertical ears!

The pair were on a case and one thing led to another which left Max dangling off a balcony and Sam gripping his ears to pull him back. After the gravity teasing incident, they walked and planned their next step in catching this perp when the realization hit Sam like a bug to a windshield, he was still gently holding his partner’s ears. Sam did let go and asked why he seemingly still had all his limbs.

“The same reason you let me give you a tongue bath and crawl all over you like an ant on a log. When it’s you touching me it… doesn't suck, anyone else tries it and they die.”

Max had simply walked away to find something to break after answering, but Sam lingered, a blend of strong emotions flooding him before he could continue.

And even now, in his comfy chair with the tv crackling blank, white static in front of him and Max’s faint snoring from behind the tv where he slid off from, Sam was once again filled with an amalgamation of affection at the memory of his little buddy and his steep, fluffy ears.

  * **3ft tall lagomorph**



“Sam, if I asked you to help crunch me through a taffy puller, would you assist me in my plans?"

Sam only looked up from his newspaper for a moment before returning to his relaxed position, ignoring his rabbit-shaped friend hanging upside down, feet tangled in the ceiling fan and arms stretched out while being handcuffed to the desk.

“As much as I enjoy seeing what bodily torture device your frighteningly cartoon-ish body can handle, my natural detective curiosity is taking over so I have to ask, why do you ask? ”

The sickly sound of joints popping and Max’s pleasant and pained noises caused Sam to finally look up at his bound little buddy as Max responded.

“Oh, not an immediate necessity don’t worry. Just that Sybil has decided to invest in the monetarily lucrative, yet socially exhausting career of candy making so she has this huge taffy puller for bulk orders!”

“As fascinating as that is, Maxie.” Sam replied, “I know we agreed the only therapy you’d get is exposure, shock, and sensory deprivation, I can't help but ask if this taffy pulling scheme has a somewhat deeper meaning?”

Max sighed, his movement causing more pops in his joints which at this point was causing Sam’s skin to squirm.

“Curse you Sam for being the one person able to decode my psychically damaging statements and see the cries for help they are.” Sam dutifully ignored the gooey familiar feeling of affection blooming in his chest and uncuffed Max from the desk. This caused Max to launch out of his bindings, cartoonishly bending and snapping into the ceiling before landing with a hard thud on Sam’s desk. 

“Thanks, Sam! Now let me spill the beans before the liquid courage of the blood rushing to my head runs out.”

Max shook his head a little as Sam sat forward.

“Now because I love you Sammy I’ll spare you the theatrics and simply say, being short blows hard.” Sam arched a brow in confusion as Max began messing with one of Sam’s stim toys. “Now what’s all this about, Max?” Sam asked. “I’ve recently realized that my shortness is stunting my power, imagine my potential if I were as tall as you Sam! Maybe even taller!” Max exclaimed, waving his hands to accentuate his points. Sam responded in the way any dog built for detective work would respond; contemplate and monologue in his own head for an uncomfortable amount of time.

Sam never minded Max’s height, loved it even! Max’s energy certainly made up for one or two feet he lacked physically, and when Max’s stature became an issue Sam simply helped his little buddy out! 

Oh god was the little buddy nickname finally wearing thin? Was this bought of self-consciousness because of Sam?

Sam’s stream of anxiety was soon cut, quite literally, by Max snapping in front of him. “Earth to Sam! Hey, don’t disassociate on me right now, at least wait until we’re in the bath or driving to do that.” Sam shook his head a little and grabbed Max’s hand. “Max, while I don't condone you stretching your insides until they become thinly sliced ham, I do want you to know that I think your power surpasses your corporeal form, and anyone willing to challenge that was doomed to end up a small stain by your hand.” Sam, smiling as he let go of Max’s hand and stood up from his chair. “And I can stop calling you little buddy and grab some ice cream if that’ll help you feel tall.” Max turned to lock eyes with sam. “No, no don't stop calling me your little buddy, that’d just be weird and possibly give me an identity crisis.” Max hopped off Sam’s desk and made his way to their office door. “But ice cream does sound nice, yeah.”

Sam followed Max out of the building and could’ve sworn on two things: pennies are made of zinc, and Max’s face was tinted pink.

  * **“You crack me up, little buddy!”**



Today was a slow day for our dog and rabbit duo. 

Which normally meant date night for the crime-fighting homosexuals but Sam was, unfortunately, choking down a double dose of depression while laid up on the couch. 

Alright so maybe today wasn’t the only slow day, it’s been a slow week and Sam’s energy and patience had drained as the week went on. Money wasn’t the issue with not being busy for the hound dog, it was all the anxiety finally caving in on him. 

Any other day Sam would be on a life or death case with his only and favorite partner, risking it all for truth and justice while trying to find someone's lost cat, but now the only thing Sam was risking was his stomach’s stability as he munches on a seemingly infinite amount of sweet, salty, and spicy snacks while watching old noir movies.

The soup of self-loathing and idle thinking came to a boil as Sam shut his eyes, sleeping was for busy people with their own monotonous duties to deal with so instead of snoozing, Sam made a mental list. 

**Sam’s to-do list of post-depression activities:**

  * **Fall down a Wikipedia rabbit hole**
  * **Research anger management**
  * **Read the thesaurus**
  * **Clean gun**
  * **Learn to bake**
  * **Tune banjo**
  * **Practice eye contact**
  * **Refill contacts**
  * **Ask Max to move the anvil in the bathroom**
  * **Take Max nazi hunting**
  * **Propose to Max?? (research engagement rings...)**



A loud, screeching noise jolted Sam from his meditative state, his eyes shot open to find the noisy offender. Sam didn’t have much time to register Max’s sudden appearance before he was being jumped on and shook around, the risk he gambled with depression snacking coming back to bite him with a wave of nausea.

“Sam you’ll never believe where I’ve just been!” max excitedly exclaimed. “Well your punjundent smell, along with bringing me to the vomiting point, reminds me of 16th century, England.” Max was already nodding his head in response. “Exactly! I found one of Bosco’s faulty time machines while dumpster diving and found us a case of 16th-century British vampirism that could use two destructive and handsome detectives!” 

Sam, slightly reeling back from the whiplash, lifted Max off his person as he stood up from the couch. “Isn’t traveling so far back in time in a faulty time machine sorta dangerous, little buddy?” Sam asked, turning off the tv. “Well yes of course, but seeing as the ungrateful plebeians in this time don’t need us right now I thought I’d find us a gig some-time else!” Max, in an uncharacteristically bashful motion, looked away from Sam and kicked at seemingly nothing before continuing. “And besides, I hate seeing you so down so I thought this would make you feel better...” 

Sam simply stared at Max before the emotional wires connected. He smiled, now recovered from his snacking gamble, grabbed Max’s hand and began to exit the office. “I think a little 16th-century unholy cadaver cleansing would be a great date night!” Max perked up and quickly took the lead. “Perfect! First, we gotta stock up on steaks, both wood, and meat. Bibles for you, and grandes for me!” Max called out. “You crack me up, little buddy!” Sam lovingly responded.

  * **He’s not evil but the lack of empathy is certainly apparent**



Now it’s no secret that Sam and Max were no strangers to danger, it simultaneously follows them like an overly attached creature and hunted down by the duo, a vice of being the freelance police but the two also liked danger for cheap thrills.

So it’s not a stretch that most of their date nights involved the sweet, corpse-like smell of jeopardy. If asked, the dog and rabbit couple would tell you that they’ve been on as many dates as cases they’ve worked, ‘if you love what you do, you never work a day in your life’ type stuff. 

If asked any more questions on their relationship the threat of being shot or bitten becomes higher, but violence to the reader aside, it’s fairly obvious that Sam and Max don’t do normal dates.

It’s certainly not for their own lack of trying, Sam especially likes the idea of a Sunday coffee date, a trip to see the latest movie, cheese tasting, or even a simple walk in the park.

But whenever the two try something seems to interrupt, something that causes Max to go into a violent shooting frenzy. If we're being fair to Max, the frenzy is usually, in his mind, to protect Sam. old habits die hard. So they compromised with corrupting normal dates, now cheese testing turned into taste-testing drywall at various hardware stores, and watching a movie turned into disturbing people fishing in the ocean, it worked out well! 

But today was different, the duo had planned to try out a new designer ice cream shop that had opened near them and would predictably close a month later so the time to indulge was now!

They had mutually decided to dine and dash and got dolled up for the occasion, Sam ignorantly thinking Max’s joking inability to promise not to fly off the handle wouldn’t be an issue, the poor gay fool.

This all came to a head as the two waited in line with seemingly all the trendy residents of their neighborhood coming out in a flock. “Sam, if this line of alternative bloggers stays still like this any longer I’ll have to turn someone here of your choice into our own ice cream. Or worse, order to go.” Max said, tapping his foot impatiently. “There, Max it’ll all be worth it soon enough. The digital space of the internet says this specific place uses caramelized milk and a lavender sugar mix for their ice cream base, and I’d rather not miss it!” Sam said, expecting the line to move along soon.

Fifteen minutes later and Max’s short attention span had finally gotten to him, so here they were in an empty ice cream parlor, gunshot holes in the ceiling with Sam watching fondly as Max screamed at anyone listening about ‘how dare you make my magnificent partner and I wait so long for your overrated, puffed-up dribble you call ice cream!’ 

Sam in the first stages of their relationship doubted Max about his biting, yelling, and general affliction towards mayhem being affectionate. But after what felt like a hundred years spent with his little buddy, Sam was everything and flattered at Max’s violent outburst and shooting of the cream canisters in the store.

Sam was soon dragged to a table, Max waving his gun around calmly. “Now you stay here, I'm gonna make us a sundae to die for!” Max said, making a running leap over the counter. 

Max most likely meant literally to die for but that didn’t stop Sam from sighing, head over heels. 

They never had normal dates, exactly, but they had accepted a long time ago that they weren’t normal by a long shot. 

And if Max could enjoy Sam's info-dumping about the Wikipedia article on acrobatics he had found at three am, Sam could handle the many shots it took to date, Max.

Sam was snapped out of his thoughts by Max slamming a large bowl full of many different ice creams, topped with multiple expensive-looking toppings. Sam kissed Max on the cheek, snatched one of the two spoons Max brought, and started to dig in along with his boyfriend into the mountain he had made.

  * **If I wasn’t so deeply acquitted with my own childhood insecurities, I’d be envious of his shameless confidence**



Sam considered himself a natural optimist, so he preferred calling Max’s unabashed shamelessness ‘confidence’.

The completely unfiltered comments that jumped from his mouth, the pungent smell that emanated from whatever he had last rolled around in, and the general disregard Max had for the general public’s health and safety were all facets of his emboldened boyfriend.

Which, like a stale trail of breadcrumbs clues led the crime-solving couple to the dumpster behind Stinky’s diner.

“Oh! Look Sam, a bilge dog from last week's special!” Max exclaimed, quickly throwing the rotten dog into his mouth. “Knock it out, soup for brains. We’re supposed to be looking for clues to the whereabouts of famed recipe plagiarist, Cat Le Nap!” Sam said while digging through a torn-up trash can filled with paper. “Oh, you mean this?” Max asked, handing Sam a crumpled up piece of paper. “Holy chicken hawk hammer heading a hammerhead shark in the arctic ocean! This is a list of past Cat le Nap victims, along with some chefs yet to be nabbed from, where’d you find this?”

“In this quality dumpster while digging for lunch!” Max said, crawling out of said dumpster only to fall on his ass. “The watermark on this list indicates this came from the abandoned printing factory on the outskirts of town, so let's head out, little buddy!” Sam shouted.

Sam was the first to make it into the car, with Max trailing behind and jumping into his lap. Sam grabbed Max’s scruff and plopped him into the passenger seat, a small peck to Sam’s hand before the two sped out and onto the highway.

It was dusk when the two arrived at the quiet building, Max was lounging in the car watching Sam pace back and forth trying to come up with an ambush plan. The only issue being Sam’s anxiety acting up and causing him to overthink his plan multiple times over. It had been a while since this type of thing had happened, and Sam knew Max was aware of his problem. 

One of the many things Sam loved about Max was his inability to really know what his partner was thinking, keeping the relationship spontaneous! But now that blank look was mixing in with his overactive mind, making his brain spin in circles and forcing him to lean against the DeSoto. 

Finally, Max spoke up. “Since you’re all dizzy, sweating, and tense, let me handle the ambush, Sammy!” Sam looked at him dubiously before Max continued. “Just ball me up and throw me in the window, I promise I got this!” There's that confidence and smile Sam was weak for, and after taking in a few calming breaths, Max was soon in ball mode and practically vibrating with excitement. “Alright little buddy, hollar in distress if you need me and just know I love you,” Sam said, setting up his aim. “Cheese-y and effective! I love you too, Sam!” Sam nodded and quickly chucked Max through the window, which broke on impact. 

The atmosphere was still, tense, quiet, and any other descriptor that made Sam uneasy. That was until a shriek that wasn’t Max cried out and all of a sudden the factory began bouncing in a dust cloud of violent shenanigans. 

After the dust settled, out came Max dragging out a bruised and battered cat wearing a tuxedo. “Done and done! Come on let's turn him in so we can get dinner!”

Sam softly smiled, climbing into the car to start the engine. His anxiety faded at a clean cased closed, and the display of Max’s stupid confidence. Hell, charmed is a better word to describe Sam’s attitude as the two drove back into the city. 

Sam looked over at Max in the passenger seat, Max throwing small items at birds and cyclists while cackling to himself. 

Shameless may be more accurate, but Sam preferred to describe his lagomorph love as confident. 


	2. max time >:]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's max's turn to gush about sam

**MAX**

  * **the droop of your ears reminds me of a pair of slippers I lovingly chewed up in a passionate fog!**



Sam and Max made an almost perfect duo in the majority sense of the word. 

Harmonizing in favorite color, love of blood coagulating snack foods and their mutual affinity to justified, and unjustified, chaos and violence! Of course, they had their own differences, but all things considered, the two were two halves of the same homosexual whole.

Two, equally gay, stimming fiends who got their daily dose of dopamine in different ways.

Sam was a fidgeter, opting to play with his tie, a Rubix cube, or one of the many knobs and buttons on the dashboard of their Desoto which led to a few trips to the hospital and mechanic (much to Max’s delight). Along with a good ol’ pressure stim, Sam also enjoyed vocal stimming, bouncing his echolalia off of Max in the office and playing his banjo while howling a tune, and as much as Max acted like he hated the instrument he couldn’t deny hearing Sam sing or hum a jingle they heard on the radio made his day all the better.

Max was a jackrabbit of all stims, with chewing, bouncing, and fidgeting being his specialty!

Which has led us to a clerical day at the duo’s office, where Max has decided to become a menace, propping himself on top of Sam’s desk chair and stim with Sam’s ears while the latter attempts to write a report to their shady but fatherly commissioner.

A calming, uncommon silence fell between them as the mechanical click of the typewriter shot through the quiet like a bullet through the fog, all the while Max pulled, squished, and petted Sam’s ears. “Could you at least wait until we’re home and I’m passed out in front of black and white reruns before you turn me into a non-chewable plaything?” Sam asked, not looking away from his work. Max grinned a little wider as he rubbed small circles into the furry cartilage. “No way, Sam! Not when this idle mind is so fixated on such stimmable ears!” Max attempted to compliment, waving his ears for emphasis. “Well as long as they keep you distracted from doing anything that would have me extend this report and start auditioning for a new partner!” Sam conceded.

The silence stretched on until Sam started airily chuckling, the type of chuckle someone who uses humor in therapy gives. “Y'know it’s funny, I used to want the docked pointed ear look so bad when I was younger and first transitioning. Thought the floppy ears took away from my masculinity and hard-boiled detective look!” Max’s hands stilled as Sam sighed. “Forgive my cheddar, but I just can’t help but feel like the luckiest guy to have you, Max.”

There was a beat of silence before Sam continued his writing, with Max leaning more into the back of Sam’s head in a faux hug.

Max’s weak points were far and in between, but he’s never been great at two things: responding to genuine affection, and Sam’s own insecurities.

The whole affection thing was a work in progress, they both knew Max just had his own love language and while Sam loved it, a little traditional cheesy moment between them was also well appreciated. But Sam had his own list of insecurities he was dealing with, ever since they were young. Weight, passing, morals, bullies, family you name it and Max had most likely heard whatever anxiety plagued Sam at that point in time.

But they both knew Max was no therapist and ultimately these were Sam’s problems to confront (though help was appreciated.), so Sam went to therapy and info-dumped at Max instead, a winning deal!

But they still had bad days, and usually, Max could make himself a physical comfort but the times when Sam needed to talk he froze up and could only be an ear to listen, and a shoulder to cry on. And as much as Max hated seeing his partner so down, his brain just stopped when he tried to think of what to say, and to say it sucked was an understatement.

Max simply continued to rub comforting circles into Sam’s ears as the dog typed away.

They both had their love languages, and Max’s presence meant ‘I love you’.’

  * **Looking up to make eye contact causes me bloody noses and lightheadedness :)**



A simple pause to appreciate Sam’s overall size is where we find this manic lagomorph in an atypical moment of peace, frozen in place while being lifted up by Sam trying to help Max reach the special snacks on the top shelf. “Gee Max, for someone with such a robust hidden inventory you sure are light! Like lifting a coupla grapes!” Sam exclaimed, lifting Max up higher for a better 

Reach. _‘I go back and forth on this, but right now I've never been so glad for my rabbity ability of not being able to sweat!’_ Max thought as he weakly grabbed the snacks he needed. 

Setting Max down, Sam chuckled and lightly noogied Max’s head before leaving his partner to marinate in his feelings.

Sam had always been a big kid, pre and post-transition. And Max had always liked Sams’ size, usually because people underestimated Max because he was smaller than Sam, only to be proven wrong. 

Aside from the mind games, Sam's height was always useful for two rambunctious kids who often threw their toys into trees with reckless abandon. And who can forget the shoulder stacking trickery the duo played when trying to get into a rated R movie. Only to be promptly kicked out after Sams’ sneeze quite literally blew their cover, damnable allergy season!

But now they’re both grown, in love, and moderately different from when they were kids, and Sam’s height had a different effect on the shorter freelancer.

For one, the amount Sam freely scooped Max up like a small stuffed animal either to carry him from objective A to B, or simply to hold his partner should be illegal, or fined at least.

And the wormhole of thoughts that spiraled from that action were wild! Which caused Max to really notice Sam’s size in comparison to him. The times he stared up at Sam so long he was struck with lightheadedness, the small number of times he caught Sam’s arms out of his suit jacket, and that god damned hand difference! 

None of this went unnoticed by their friends, and Max’s obvious behavior was constantly mocked by his so-called friends, the traitors…

All these dramatics are to say that yes, Max realized a new thing he loved about his partner and was in the process of normalizing these new affections. 

Max’s brain worked in a way where he had to familiarize himself with realizing something new, and any new feelings he had about a person that weren’t gut instinct negative he had to actually think about it. 

Max shook his head, snapping himself out of his thoughts as Sam called him from the other room. 

“Comin’, Sam!” Max called back. Normalizing could wait, forcible cuddle time with his big ol’ partner called!

  * **I can never take you seriously whenever you start saying “___”**



“Are you seriously reading the dictionary, Sam? Honestly, just whittle down candy canes to a sharp point and find a kids birthday party if you’re that bored. ” Max said, kicking the door closed behind him and setting a box full of miscellaneous pieces of evidence down on Sam’s desk. 

“At first I wasn’t, but I got bored of being bored so I actually started reading!” Sam answered.

“Bored of being bored? Or arming yourself with more long and funny-sounding words to damn near kill me with?” Max grumbled, climbing onto Sam’s desk to peak at the large dictionary he was reading from. “Despite my love of humorously torturing you with language no one but English majors and dead romantics use, this time I'm being honest in expanding my horizons! Training my erudition and whatnot.” Sam defended. 

Max snorted and failed to hold back the laughter he wasn’t really trying to hide in the first place. “Erudition! Sam please I wasn't ready!” Max snickered. Sam furrowed his brow before smirking to himself, turning to fully face Max. “You better stop it, Max, before I trounce you into next Thursday!” Sam joked, causing Max to roll over in a fit of chuckles. 

Sam grinned, leaning over Max as his partner continued to chortle. “Now you’re stuck, stuck in your own trap of cachinnation!” 

The final nail in the triple goof coffin of the English language and Max laughed himself off the desk and infecting Sam with his own fit of chuckles. 

Though after a while, Max finally got himself back onto his feet and stared up at a smug-looking Sam. “You realize I'm going to have to get you later right, Sam?” Sam simply gave Max a peck on the forehead. “I still don’t quite understand while unnecessarily long words crack you up so much, little buddy,” Sam said, sitting back down at his desk to fiddle with his tie. 

“I don’t know, when other people talk to me like that I make it my mission to fill any orifice they have with pennies, money where their mouth type junk!” Max responded. “That’s simultaneously flattering and frightening, Max,” Sam stated.

Max simply shrugged and headed to his own little desk, to carve, stab, and draw his own sappy feelings away till they went home for the day.

  * **The gravel of your voice reminds me of the sound I made when I mistakenly chewed on fish tank rocks I thought were candy!**



For Max, the idea of sucking your soul away with work until you could supposedly retire and let your life drain out of your ears was not only a load of crock but also completely unnecessary. Why whittle your soul away like a plugged up drainpipe when you could get into contact with a demon? Easy soul removal right there, plus the added bonus of possibly becoming a demon too!

But… Max did admit from time to time if he’d pick any job to suck away his living soul then freelance policing was a really fun way to do it.

Sure it was a job Sam and Max had made up to do delinquent detective work, due to Sam’s moral ideas, Max’s inability to be contained by traditional laws, and the mutual agreement between them of ACAB.

After a meeting with the mysterious Commissioner, their job was finally approved as legitimate and the high stakes, goofy mystery-solving started to pay off!

Unfortunately, detective work did not always equal busting down the plots of giant cockroaches of the future, the marriage disputes of living stars, or the normal supervillain thwarting. Slow days being one of Max’s many enemies. 

The energy of this particular case had slowed down tonight, with Sam and Max being forced to stakeout the supposed hideout of a legion of criminal maids, and it was Max’s turn on the lookout. 

This situation was a double-sided sword, the boredom so palpable making Max beg for his own double-sided sword to throw like an oversized knife. The only upside to this being Sam finally able to get some sleep, this was a case he’d been working especially hard on and so sleep had become a thing of the past for the last three days, even with Max forcibly dragging him to bed.

So here he was, taking over as the serious detective and best boyfriend. God with brownie points he’s collecting tonight plus the cute-sy sad eyes he’ll have Sam awwing and cuddly in no time! After his rest of course. 

Max, grinning at the thought, rubbed his tired eyes and looked over at his snoring partner. 

Max stared in a gay bliss before shooting straight up in his chair at a sound, whipping his head towards the building to see what the noise was. Of course, the building was just as empty as it had been the rest of the night, so when more grumbling occurred Max looked over to Sam to find him lightly turning in his sleep, his normally floppy ears perking up every so often. 

This situation hit Max like a truck and so the stakeout was abandoned in favor of watching his boyfriend talk in his sleep. Priorities! 

Well… nothing was going on at 4 am anyway, and Max barely gets time to oggle anymore so sue him!

Sam’s comatose grumbles could hardly count as sleep talking, yeah, but the sound was like velvet-covered gravel to the lagomorphs larger than normal ears.

Max considered himself affectionate enough, the only person deserving of seeing his softer mushy side being Sam, everyone else got aggressive pleasantries or worse!

But now, on this chilly night parked under a streetlamp, making their position very obvious to the criminally savvy, Max could delve into his sappy side.

Max loved everything about Sam, that much was obvious to himself. Fur texture, fashion sense, smile, cheesy puns, on good days and bad; he was putty for Sam.

Sam’s voice was, unsurprisingly, a treasure to Max too. specifically modeled after noir detective and such as Sam was starting T. Max mostly jokingly made fun of Sam’s fixations to crime-solving, and the goofy junk that came with it, but he did have to admit; his voice training paid off in spades. Handsome spades.

Speaking of, Sam’s sleepy movements and rambles came more frequently now. _‘Probably dreamin’ of catching a perp, gotta love that.’_

Max wistfully sighed before a shrill alarm ruined the moment, waking up Sam and startling them both into a panic.

A panic which, to cover up his own softness, caused Max to slam on the gas and send them both flying into the building they were supposed to be watching.

As the literal and figurative dust cleared, the incident started adding up. You can’t set off the alarm in a place you’re working out of, but the building next door getting robbed is fair game. “Fair enough game that we’re scored a two for one deal on arrests tonight, Max!” Sam proclaimed, hyper from his nap. “Off they go to that concrete farmhouse, let’s go home.” Max yawned, leaning on Sam as he started the car. 

The purr of the engine and Sam’s humming lulling Max into a rest.

  * **Despite him perpetuating stereotypes about man’s best friend, his determination is oddly… charming**



Max was never one for fitting into stereotypes, whether it be nonbinary, gay, or rabbit, Max had his own agenda and his own rules. 

Sam on the other hand… well he wasn’t a complete stereotype but he had his moments.

Sure, Sam defied biology in ways Max enjoyed, eating chocolate products, opposable thumbs, and the ability to stand watching cheesy musicals; Sam opposed many things dog-related, the type of astral rebellion that made Max smile. 

But Sam was loyal, stupidly so. On worse brain days Sam’s loyalty is the only thing convincing Max that Sam won’t leave, but we don’t have time to unpack that bag of bad business!

The point is, for better or worse, Sam’s biggest dog-like qualities were his loyalty and determination, it’s the only reason they ever solved any cases.

Although this same loyalty had Sam become attached to a fly he made his pet before having to experience the insect’s end and the same determination that led him to a bushel of poison ivy as a kid after the two decided to chase after a neighborhood bully until they caught him. Max got twisted up in some vines and by the time he caught up with Sam, the lagomorph found Sam pinning the young urchin, the two already starting to scratch from the ivy. 

Safe to say Max didn’t mind taking care of Sam then, and sure doesn’t mind tending to him now. That amount of hyperfocus was just too charming to try to lessen with responsible advice, so if seeing Sam in his element meant having to play nurse every once in a while, then so be it!

Flash forward to now and Max has noticed the hyper-focused detective making more frequent appearances because a new case involves well… someone stealing cases around the city. The petty thief of a suit, brief, and other business luggage was a sad thing to see.

But that’s just the thing, it’s such a vague city-wide problem that it overshot its mark and became pretty complicated!

Now Max, being a genius, could easily put on the blinders and ignore this issue, wanting to move onto the next case. But Sam took this with his usual crime-fighting passion, and really set himself out to find this case thief, for about three days now Sam poured over notes and used Bosco tech for scattered city surveillance. 

By the fourth night, Max was tired of Sam’s late nights and eating dry mac and cheese, and decided to forcibly put the case on hold. Impatient and tired, Max kicked the office door open to find Sam bathed in the dim light of his desk lamp. The duo locked eyes and had a silent conversation as enthralling as a tennis match, which left Max sighing in defeat. “Fine, you know those puppy dog eyes break me!” Max complained, heading to the break room to make them both coffee. “Max, in all my time, knowing you I’ve never seen you do anything other than threaten puppies.” Sam tiredly commented. Max paused at the doorway, rubbing his head. “Well, not all puppies are you, y’know?” Sam smiled as Max continued. “After we finish our cups we're going home to sleep, alright you doof?” Max grumbled. Sam nodded, turning on the small radio on his desk while Max prepared coffee. _‘He must be really out of it to be letting me make coffee!’_ Max snorted at the thought, hearing some soft jazzy tune to investigate and work to playing from the next room. 

Once the coffee was done and Max added the Fixin's (3 sugar scoops and a splash of banana cheesecake creamer for Sam, half coffee half orange juice for Max.), Max stepped out into the office to announce the grace of coffee for this all-nighter. Only to find Sam hunched on his desk snoozing to the radio jazz. Max hummed to himself, partially in relief and somewhat annoyed.

Max simply resigned himself to being the responsible one tonight, dumping their coffees into his ever-growing living liquid mold experiment in the office closet, and piggybacking Sam onto their office couch to sleep in a more comfortable way.

Max joined him on the couch soon enough, normally Sam was the one to actually do work and Max thought this case was stupid, so trying to work on it while Sam slept was a fruitless endeavor for the both of them. 

Instead, Max could provide Sam some company while he slept, his own way of supporting his burnt-out partner. Until sunrise when he’d be at it again trying to find this stupid case theif, Max would enjoy however long to two had to sleep.


End file.
